by Mr. Mean-Spirited
Is there actually any proof that all human beings deserve respect? Where is the physical evidence that all lives have significance? Is there any real confirmation that all people are worthy of respect?
I know that the mass media has always told you human life is the most precious thing in the world, but there may not be any tangible documentation that humanity has any value whatsoever. Even though politicians have always lectured you about the importance of the mankind, but where is the verification for such an absurd claim? If an assumption cannot be substantiated, maybe the assertion simply isn’t true.
Human beings might well be worthless organisms. I would respectfully suggest that your own personal experience has already demonstrated just how insignificant people truly are – and you, my dear reader, just don’t want to accept the evidence of your own eyes. It is time you faced reality and realize just how despicable humans truly are.
You can look to your own life history. If you are honest with yourself, you will have to admit that most people treated you badly. At all the significant points in your past, you got screwed over by other people – and only a contemptible species would have done such a thing.
You can look to the world around you. Just examine the way that the human animals really interact. You ought to consider how humanity behaves in a public restroom if you still have any illusions that the species is worthy of respect. Lock your car doors and stare at the huddled masses in the inner city – you can’t honestly insist that there is any nobility in any of those creatures.
There is nothing about humanity that is worth saving.
Human life is the most overrated thing on the planet. Mankind is the most worthless thing in the universe.
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
The most dreadful thing you could ever hear is a liberal announcing that he just wants to have a conversation. The most dreaded part of any relationship occurs at that moment when a woman insists that “we need to talk.”
Back in the day, whenever a boss took someone outside for “a chat,” everyone knew that that the misbehaving worker was getting his ass kicked. In these politically correct times, whenever an elected official tells you the taxpayers that they need a “frank discussion” every citizen has got to realize that that he is going to be hurting by the time dignitary finishes his remarks.
Whenever a humanitarian uses the word “conversation,” the altruist doesn’t mean an honest exchanged of opinions. Instead, you will be expected to apologize and to act contrite and to say you are sorry and to ask for forgiveness. No matter the situation, whenever you are supposed to speak, you will have to do some verbal groveling.
I don’t know about you, but I ain’t going to be conversationed by some do-gooder. Just as I don’t allow a child to give me any lip, I am not about to put up with some communitarian who tries to talk down to me. If you are ever caught in a discussion, the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut. If you are every asked if you have anything to contribute, never utter a word.
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
Even you, even you, my dear reader, will have to admit that existence is crammed with misfortune – and even you will have to acknowledge that this misery only increases as we get older. Things only get worse as time goes on. An obvious, observable design.
I have a suspicion that this plan continues after death, and that only constant torment awaits us in the realm beyond. This same pattern of torment persists throughout life – and afterlife. If there is a hereafter, then it is going to be horrific. When it is all said and done, eternal anguish is what humanity truly deserves.
Consider it as theistic pessimism. Only a malevolent entity could devise something as horrendous as existence – and I think that there is a horrible shock awaiting everyone after death. Surely this much agony cannot be the result of mere random chance. No ache is an accident. This much unhappiness has got be the result of a deliberate plot against you – there just isn’t any other explanation.
Your last breath is not going to end the pain, but only make things worse. I am not convinced that death is the cessation of suffering – as much as its continuance in a different form. I am certain that some evil being designed the world, and he has saved the greatest tortures for all eternity. You may not believe in an afterlife – but the Lord has got a little surprise awaiting you. Think of it as the ultimate practical joke.
There is never any end to suffering – in this world or the next. No comforter, no savior, no redeemer. You’ll see.
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
If I happen to see someone going hungry, I do not feel compassion – I feel contempt. If I spot a beggar without a cent in the world, I do not feel sorry – I feel superior.
The rich might not be any better than the poor, but I never really come in contact with the moneyed class. Wealthy citizens are not sprawled on the streetcorner demanding a dollar, so I do not concern myself with the well-to-do. The bluebloods aren’t leaving their bodily excretions all over the sidewalk, so I do not trouble myself about upper crust – but the stink and stench of the poor is something that threatens my quality of life.
I fucking hate the poor.
Feeding the homeless is exactly the same as feeding wild beasts. At first, you might feel virtuous about giving bread to a few stray mammals. But, soon, your good intentions have resulted in the arrival of hundreds of additional creatures – all shitting and squawking for a handout. When you finally run out of food, the animals will always start to attack you. Just as you don’t feed wildlife in the wildness, you don’t feed hominids in the metropolis.
There is no government program that could ever eliminate privation. There is no scheme to redistribute wealth that would ever succeed. There is no welfare plan would ever work. No politician is going to craft a piece of legislation that would do the trick
But me – I got this solution to poverty. Absolutely certain to be effective. Guaranteed to eliminate the problem 100% of the time. Want to know what it is?
Let the poor starve. Let the fuckers die.
If you can’t eliminate the ailment, you can eradicate the source of the disease. The answer is to let nature take its course.
There is a reason why the destitute are called “unfortunate.” A penniless chap is the source of his own problems. The beggar always brought this adversity upon himself. If a bum made some bad decisions in his life, then he needs to feel the consequences of his mistake. If a broke and bankrupt fellow merely happened to hit a patch of bad luck, then he still needs to steer into that misfortune. If hardship is your true fate, then you need to embrace the harshness. If a starving man is lying on the sidewalk, maybe it is his true destiny to die of malnutrition.
If I were to suffer some financial reversal and if I were to become totally impoverished, I might not like it – but at least I would know that I deserved it.
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
As paradoxical as it might sound, hatred is absolutely necessary in order to restore a sort of cosmic harmony.
The Book of Ecclesiastes says that there is “a time to love, and a time to hate” – and that certainly sounds balanced and unbiased enough. Yet love and kindness have been shoved down your throat since childhood – so where was that emotional evenhandedness promised by the Bible? Where is that parity that we were always pledged? If you ever have had sensitivity training forced upon you, then you are going to want to hear the other side. I just want to return to that primordial equilibrium – all that I ask is for you to acknowledge and accept that other essential and indispensable human feeling: hate.
All those positive sentiments don’t mean anything unless you are free to express an equal amount of negativity. While it is true that pure hatred can be detrimental, love that is not tempered with loathing will be just as destructive. More souls have been rotted away by affection than by animosity.
Other people on this planet will bather about love and compassion - there is no way of stopping this sort of bluster. There will always be liberals trying to inflict their empathy upon you – try as you might, humanitarians can’t entirely be eradicated. Your role is of a higher order. Your task, then, is simply to respond with utter loathing to anything proposed by do-gooders in order to restore this cosmic symmetry. Your mission is to balance all that societal benevolence with private disdain.
The very stability of the heavens depends on your ability to hate in an increasingly altruistic culture. You must always respond with spite no matter the social cost. You must loathe humanity no matter the communal consequences. Your only duty is to make bleeding hearts do more bleeding.
Hatred is a noble calling. Hostility is the only counterbalance to conformity. And in these politically correct times, there is nothing that takes more courage than to hate.
Sure, a man who is negative all the time might well have some mental illness. But, by the very same token, a person who is incessantly positive is just as disturbed. The only balanced solution is to hate just as much as you love. Because society will remain interminably optimistic, you don’t need to do all that much encouraging in this world – that has already been completed for you, and all you need to do is to buy a greeting card. But you truly need to make up for deficiencies in the hateful side of things – so it is time to clench your fists and get to work.
by Mr. Mean-Spirited
Aw, what’s the matter? Are you upset? Did you get offended by what I said? Did you get all bothered by what you were told? Did you get your feelings hurt?
Well, your feelings need to be hurt. You deserve to be insulted. You need to suffer, bub. You need to feel the pain.
When I offend you, I am doing the Lord’s work. When I hurt your feelings, I make you realize just how unimportant you truly are. Offensive words are always accurate words. Offensive speech is invariably correct speech.
Do you think I disrespected you? Well, that’s right – I don’t respect you, and nor does anyone else. If you are a contemptible person, you are simply going to get a lot of contempt from other people. You are just human filth – and it is about time that you realize it. You are absolute scum, and it is about time that somebody told you what you really are. You are a loser, and you need to come to terms with it.
You have an unwarranted opinion of yourself. When you are offended, you see yourself for what you really are: worthless. When your feelings get hurt, you see the world as it truly is: inconsequential. You need to come to terms with just how insignificant you really are in the great cosmic scheme of things, and my offensive words are exactly what you need to hear.
Emotional pain occurs when actual facts do not match your inflated opinions. Maybe you simply aren’t as smart as you imagine yourself to be. Maybe you just aren’t as attractive as you would like. Maybe your own life isn’t as fulfilling as you suppose.
Being offended ultimately puts reality and your perception back into alignment. You should be grateful that someone has gone to the trouble of putting you in your place. There is a reason why getting insulted cuts you down to size. Having your feelings hurt is downright therapeutic.
You need to look yourself in the mirror and see just what a disgusting piece of shit you really are. It is absolutely essential that you get your feelings hurt in this world.
You need to be offended – and you need it special.
No one knows less about wine than the kind of person who would go to a tasting.
After a death in my family, I had some legal documents that needed to be signed by a hospital administrator. While waiting in the outer office, I noticed a stack of tickets to a “charity event.” Because the official was “unexpectedly delayed” for over 50 minutes, I slipped one of the passes into my file folder. I think that the return envelope requested a minimum four-figure donation, but since the medical industry had already swindled hundreds of thousands of dollars from the insurance company for my sister’s incompetent treatment, I thought that I was owed a little something.
I deserved a little fun. So there I was with an invitation to an “exclusive gathering” without any proper clothing. I knew enough to understand that only a middle-class minion would actually wear a new suit to a “society event,” so I headed to the nearest thrift store for some quality apparel. Nothing screams upper class like a slightly frayed camel hair jacket and a bow tie. I gave my hair a needed trim with the shaver attachment – and, by nightfall, I looked completely like a Flemish faggot. (I also took a tablet of Mexican propranolol to minimize normal anxiety around so many fairies and foodies.)
After presenting my ticket to security with a scowl and a curt nod, I was unshed into the hall. I never could afford to set foot into the place in the best of times … but there I was – in the presence of the local “high and mighty.” God damn, my very bowels were awed at the throng. However, no matter how luxurious the surroundings, I quickly became bored out of my mind with all the talk of retirement options and Caribbean vacations, so I thought I would have a good laugh when the wine was poured.
I loudly claimed to discover a “hint of Meyer lemon” in the first vintage – actually, I couldn’t detect anything of the sort; it just tasted like fermented grape juice to me. But – wouldn’t you know – some other assholes immediately claimed that they could distinguish the same citrus flavor. Next round, I noticed that others were watching me with expectation, so I claimed to find a “suggestion of freshly harvested pineapple” – and, miracle of miracles, so did everyone else. The truth, of course, is that the second glass of white wine tasted absolutely identical to the first – but when I claimed that the flavor was “astonishing,” so did the cocksuckers around me.
I immediately decided that the third offering would be “disappointing” before even taking a sip. I made some appropriate facial movement and delivered my verdict. Since I established myself as bit of an authority, I didn’t need to give any explanation – just slowly twirled the stem of the glass below my nose. Naturally, the oenophiles went out of their way to agree with my assessment. No matter how preposterous my assertion about a glass of wine that evening, the experts in my circle always were in “profound agreement.” In reality, just about the only thing impactful any of those types ever felt was what might have been shoved up their anus.
No human being is as much a conformist as a gourmet who claims to have a refined palate. Nobody is easier to con than a connoisseur. No one is easier to fool than an art expert. No professional is easier to deceive than an acknowledged authority.
Take my advice: if you are tasting “subtle hints” of raspberry and chocolate in a glass of wine, then you are only imagining things – or, perhaps, ought to be evaluated for an aggressive brain tumor. The only ingredient that has gone into that bottle of wine is grapes – and maybe the occasional rodent that got caught in the hopper. Grape juice is all that is you are actually getting in your mouth – and don’t pretend otherwise. It’s unseemly.
Don’t blame me; my taste is fucking exquisite.
